


A Letter to Nowhere

by neverwitch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Inner Dialogue, Lovesick Dean, M/M, POV Dean, Smutty Thoughts, They totally feel the same way, but they got no clue, fluffy thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 04:05:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8650702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverwitch/pseuds/neverwitch
Summary: [I want to hold you in my arms like you're five and I'm nine again, only I'd throw in a love-bite in the mix this time.]





	

It was one in the afternoon--a very lazy, warm, sunny time of day. A steady hum of bees hovering around honeysuckles and random wild flowers could be heard from outside the window; it was the constant string of music that had lulled Sam to sleep. They were in one of Bobby's private hideout cabins in the woods, somewhere in the middle of somewhere in the somewhere-parts of America. 

Dean watched, his gaze flickering towards him every few seconds. Okay, he almost never took his eyes off him, but at least he tried to pry them off whenever he remembered older brothers weren't supposed to stare at their younger brothers like that. It was hard not to, though. 

[I can't help it. Just...look at him.] 

The afternoon sunlight stretched its fingertips to play in Sammy's brown locks, now glinting a lighter, fairer color in the sun. They caught the light and made themselves look so soft and touchable, made Dean want to gently comb his own fingers through them, weave his hand and his hair into a tapestry. 

[You look so peaceful when you're asleep. Carefree like the baby you used to be. I hope you're not having any dreams, cuz they say the deepest shut-eyes are the ones without them.]

Small dust particles floated around in the air, visible in the butter-yellow filter of sunlight. They spiraled around Sam's closed eyes, his nose, his lips... Dean lingered at the last part. His gaze slowly trailed the smooth rise and fall of the shape of Sam's mouth. The thinner, defined curve of his upper lip met the pinkish, plump bottom one in a line that was simply adorable. 

[Alluring.]

Pretty. 

[Sexual.]

Dean wished he could stop looking at his own flesh and blood that way. He could really creep himself out with his own inappropriate, ridiculous love-sick crap he had going on inside his head about Sammy. 

[Just thinking of you smiling at me makes the corners of my mouth turn up.] 

See what he means? The great Dean Winchester going all fluffy and soft with the overgrown man stretched out on the sofa in front of him. Bah. Dean snorted at himself but couldn't bring his heart to feel sorry. If he was going downstairs to bathe in sulfer-lakes for this, then fine. What the Hell. He'd already been there, anyway. Sometimes he was vaguely curious enough to wonder what Satan and his demon besties thought of incestuous males. 

[I bet they did worse.] 

Sometimes he was just a teeny bit, small-y bit conscious of what other people would say should they ever find out what he felt for Sam. The horror, the hate, the whispers and open-war insults. But Dean could handle them. He'd just tell them fuck-you-and-goodbye-now-you-can-kiss-my-ass, but that was exactly what he wouldn't be able to tell Sam if HE ever found out. 

[What if you figure it out? What if I let it slip between my teeth and spell everything out with a drunk tongue? What if I disgust you?]

And THAT was the one thought that chilled him like an ice-bucket challenge down to his spine. His imagination could so easily draw the non-existent disdain in Sam's hazel-green eyes. It sketched away in vivid colors hardened glares from Sam, cold and curt attitudes, shocked silences and uncomfortable pauses. His imagination could already make him taste phantom pains rise up to his throat. 

All that shit and one look at Sammy was all it took to calm them down again. Dark, chestnut hair with frills and a forehead with the word "sincere" stamped across his breadth; a blue plaid shirt with his heart dangling at its sleeves; that was the real Sam. The Sam he had now and hopefully, would always have. 

Sam sighed in his sleep and shifted a little. Dean quickly looked away, afraid to be caught staring. No embarrassing moments, please.  
"Dean..."  
He heard him mumble. Sleep clouded his voice and turned it into something like a groan. Low and husky.  
Huh. 

[Sexy. ]

Dean casually glanced back at him, thinking he'd woken up. 

[Yeah, Sleeping Beauty?]

"Yeah, kiddo?" 

"Imqpaomzpwmmphh..."  
"Huh?"  
"....."  
Even breathing.  
He'd just murmured Dean's name in his sleep. 

Dean had no idea how something so trivial could do something so significant to him--but it did. His chest suddenly felt three times as full and there was something running through his veins that turned his blood all warm and fuzzy, like apple-cider. Heat pooled in his stomach as the tone of his name on Sam's tongue echoed in his ear. It tickled in his mind like foam on sand. 

[Just thinking of you leads to so many other thoughts. One minute I'm taking a trip down the memory lane and recalling how I spooned soup into your mouth, the next I'm fantasizing of 'things' happening in bed. I stray from loving to lusting, caring to wanting.] 

Dean couldn't for the life of him remember how many times he'd contemplated Sammy's hollow cheeks with longing, his dimples with possessiveness. Every dot and every freckle he wanted to feel, could never be his. Not in that way he wanted. Every smile, every fleeting glance from his brother would taunt him at a proximity and remind him that always, those little expressions did not express anything more than sibling-love. 

But by no means did that mean a guy couldn't dream. 

[I want to hold you in my arms like you're five and I'm nine again, only I'd throw in a love-bite in the mix this time.] 

Sam muttered in his sleep again, something that sounded like another "wosjeiwlmmm." His brow crinkled for a second, then relaxed again. Dean felt his smile reach his eyes. 

[If only it was possible...I'd take your lips in mine and make it move in synch with yours. I'd kiss you so disgustingly sweet and make it last so long you'd pull away first, laughing and breathless. I want to, so bad you have no idea.] 

His train of thought was escalating rapidly, and he knew there was no way to stop it now. 

[Runaway stray, fly away.]

Dean's heartbeat began to quicken. 

[And your hair...sometimes it's so goddamn hard to resist thid crazy urge to bury my nose in those waves and drag my mouth along the line of your face, nibbling your sensitive ear along the way and finishing at the crook of your neck. The scent of your skin would collide with mine and they'll be melded together by the smell of motel-shampoo we both used the other night. I'd kiss my way up and down all over, starting from your temple and gently lick the spot behind your ear. I'd finish with your collarbones, prominent and exposed beneath two buttons I opened seconds ago.] 

He felt a stir below his waist.  
Surely he'd pay for this on Judgement Day. Oh well. At least it wasn't today. 

[I'll give up my dollars when it arrives--and the Man Upstairs can keep the change.]

Sunlight, bees, wind in the leaves...  
Sammy...  
Dean looked away. 

[Then I'd pop the rest of the buttons loose and show you how to worship. My fingers would trace the lines of your chest and tease the nubs on either side. I'd teach you how to say prayers in moans and beg for something else than God. Instead of the bible, you'd learn how to read my flesh.] 

If Lucifer was still around, he would've drawled that Dean got off on thoughts of teaching his little brother debauchery. He would've been damn right. 

[Like I care.] 

Dean had grown hard by now. The pressure between his legs was beginning to feel uncomfortable. He shouldn't be sitting right next to Sam at the moment. It felt wrong, even to him. 

[I'd use both of my hands to handle you, so delicately at first but then you'll whine for more and I'd give it to you, hard. I'd keep you on the edge with dirty promises and treasure you with lover's nonsense till you reach your peak and I'd be the one to hike you all the way up there. You'd be a shivering, panting mess underneath my body and I'd take care of you like you're some first-timer virgin, hike with you all the way down again.]

Quietly, he stood up and made for the bathroom. 

 

It was two in the afternoon, and Sam's nap was starting to wear off. His skin perceived the warm heat of sunlight even before he opened his eyes. 

Fluttering lashes.  
Two hazel orbs. 

Sam just laid there for a moment, not wanting to move his lower body too much. He had had the most insane dream of his life, and now the front of his jeans was wet. Not that this was the first time this had happened.  
"Hey."  
Dean suddenly appeared at his side, making him jump. Sam immediately sat up and snatched up a random, very saggy cushion to hide the darkened patch. Dean raised an eyebrow as he threatened to blush.  
"Uh..." Sam glanced up at his brother. Dean seemed completely oblivious of his pants, though.  
"What?"  
"Um, nothing." 

Right, nothing at all.  
He may or may not have had a wet dream concerning his big brother, but as he said--nothing at all.


End file.
